


Orange Fleece Triptych

by RosiePaw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosiePaw/pseuds/RosiePaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>These three ficlets were originally written for the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/mcfleece/">2009 Fleece Appreciation Challenge</a>.  I realized afterwards that they made better sense if read in the opposite order from which they were written and posted.</p><p>The title of the first one is stolen from a line in flyakate's <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/35145">October and February</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Orange Fleece Triptych

**Author's Note:**

> These three ficlets were originally written for the [2009 Fleece Appreciation Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/mcfleece/). I realized afterwards that they made better sense if read in the opposite order from which they were written and posted.
> 
> The title of the first one is stolen from a line in flyakate's [October and February](http://archiveofourown.org/works/35145).

**Wouldn’t you like to be orange too?**

“It’s _orange_!”

“Yeah, but the taste and texture are exactly the same.”

“It’s _orange_, Sheppard.  You can’t say that the mess hall is serving ‘roast turkey’ for Christmas dinner when in actuality the meat on our plates will be _orange_.”

“Okay, fine.  The mess hall will be roasting and serving those six-legged things from PX6-192 that have exactly the same taste and texture as turkey...”

“Except for the slight detail that their flesh is _orange_...”

“...and Ronon and Teyla and I will be having dinner together and would like you to join us.”

“Which is what I _usually_ do except when important work prevents me!  If I _can_ be there, your invitation is redundant because I would have been there _anyway_.  If I _can’t_ be there, your invitation is useless, because, hello?  _Important work_.”

“Rodney...”

“Rawdnee’ing me is not going to change the facts, Colonel!  And no, neither is _pouting_!  I’ll be there if I _can_ be.”

John pounced.  “Thanks, buddy, I’ll hold you to that.”

“Hold me to what?  Wait, what do you think I said?”

“You promised me that you’d be there if you could...”

“...which I _will_ if I _can_!”

“And since we’ve all seen you pull miracles out of your ass before, I know you can do this, which means you’ll be there.”

With which John threw the sputtering scientist a grin and got the hell out of the lab before Rodney could start shooting holes in his reasoning.

***

It wasn’t as if John had ever been all that big on the whole Christmas extravaganza himself.  But now that he had the closest thing to a family he’d had in years, he found he wanted to celebrate.  Gathering your family in close at a dark time of the year made sense to him in a way it hadn’t before – as did other things.  The truth was that life in the Pegasus galaxy had changed him in ways both good and bad.  If he had to accept the latter, he’d damn well enjoy the former.

So although John was not about to hang Christmas tree ornaments from his ears (like one of the female botanists), put red and green LEDs in his hair (like one of the male chemists – John didn’t ask) or admit to owning a red-and-green-striped sweater (like one of the younger Marines – his mom had knitted it for him), he wanted to have Christmas dinner with his team, and Rodney _was_ going to be there.  It was only fair, since Rodney had been part of this from the very start, from the first moment John saw him bustling around the control room in Antarctica, brilliant in orange fleece.

John sometimes wondered what had happened to that fleece.  Rodney had looked cuddly in it.  Well, even cuddlier.

***

“He said he’d be here, he’ll be here.”

“Want me to go get him?”

“Nope.  He’ll be here.”

“Ronon, I believe that John wishes to give Rodney an opportunity to demonstrate his good faith.”

“Okay, but if he doesn’t get here in time for dessert, can I have his share?”  

“Forget it, Chewie, your if-statement’s just become invalid,” snapped Rodney as he slid in next to John.

John turned to rag him about being late, but what came out of John’s mouth instead was, “McKay, you’re wearing _that_.”

“What?  I know it’s not the traditional holiday colours, but if the turkey can be orange, so can my clothing.  Anyway, I looked all through my drawers and closets, and I couldn’t find anything red and green.  I found this in the back, it must have fallen down behind the other stuff, I haven’t seen it since Antarctica.  It was either wear this or trade – what’s his name, one of your guys – for that sweater he says his mother made him, and I wasn’t about to waste good chocolate that way.”

“You mean you not only made it to Christmas dinner with the team, you dressed up for the occasion?”  John raised one eyebrow, and damned if Rodney didn’t flush and start to look away.  “Buddy?”  He waited until Rodney was looking directly back at him.  “Thank you.”

“Uh, thanks?”  Then Rodney _kept_ looking at him.

“I thank you for coming as well, Rodney.  And that colour is becoming to you.”  John found himself catching his breath as Rodney turned away to answer Teyla.

“Thank _you_, Teyla.”

“Pretty bright, though – hard to hide.”  Ronon speared another chunk of orange turkey and continued to study the fleece as he chewed.

“I wasn’t going to wear it _in the field_, and anyway, it’s the responsibility of you warrior-types to protect...” began Rodney.

“But he’s so loud that hiding him’s already impossible, so it’s no loss,” concluded Ronon.

“Fine, I’ll remind you that you said that the next time...  Sheppard, what are you smirking about?”

“Dunno,” shrugged John.

And he didn’t know, except that it was Christmas.  And his family was eating orange turkey together.  And Rodney was looking cuddly in his orange fleece.  Life was, at least for the moment, very good.

***

***

*** 

**Waiting is hell**

Although the kebab-things one of the vendors was selling were really good, the market had been a bust in terms of interesting technology.  Rodney was ready to call it a day.  When he spotted the spikes of John’s hair rising about the crowd, he headed in that direction.

He was turning the corner around the last row of stands between John and him when he saw the contents of the table John – and Teyla – were standing at.  Blankets.  Thick, fleecy blankets.  The one that his team-mates were apparently bargaining for was exactly the same colour as his orange fleece.

Rodney had ducked back around the corner, out of sight, before he had a chance to realize how silly his reaction was.  There was no reason for him to be feeling that he’d seen something he shouldn’t see.  John and Teyla were buying a fleecy orange blanket ten days before Christmas.  Big deal.  Maybe it was Teyla who was buying the blanket – although when Rodney thought about it, it seemed unlikely that Teyla would need John’s help in bargaining and all too likely that John would need Teyla’s.

Maybe John was buying the blanket for himself.  Maybe he was buying it for, well, someone else.  Someone not Rodney.  Hell, maybe the thing at the harvest festival had been a fluke.  Both John and he had had quite a bit to drink.  John had been gone by the time Rodney woke up the next morning, and they hadn’t spoken about it since.  Although they weren’t actively _not_ speaking about it, either.  John didn’t act uncomfortable or different.  He was just, always, almost painfully _John_.

Who was buying a fleecy orange blanket.  Almost certainly not for Rodney.

Rodney put his chin up and marched around the corner, only to freeze when John spotted him.  They stared at each other a moment before John drawled, “It’s okay, McKay, it’s not a Christmas present.”

Oh.  Fine.

John raised one eyebrow and smirked, still looking right at Rodney.  “It’s wrapping paper.”

Oh? 

The smirk intensified.

Ohhhhhhh...  And still ten days to wait.

***

***

***

**Sheppard's sense of snow**

"John, what are you wearing?"

"Boots, socks, jeans, boxers..."

"Very funny. What are you wearing as the outermost layer on your upper body?"

"A fleece?"

"The _orange_ fleece."

"Rodney, it’s 20..."

"-7."

"...degrees out here. I need something more than a shirt, but my parka’s too warm for shoveling."

"That explains why you’re wearing _a_ fleece, but not _my_ orange fleece."

"Your orange fleece makes the snow lighter."

"It what?"

"Makes the snow lighter. Easier to shovel."

"Okay, Sheppard, you do know that‘s physically impossible?"

"I’m just reporting what I’ve observed, Rodney."

"No, really, there’s no way on earth – on _any_ planet – that the colour of the fleece worn by the person shoveling should affect the physical characteristics of the snow being shoveled. It’s a violation of..."

"Look, buddy, all I’m saying is that whoever shovels the driveway should get to wear your orange fleece while they’re doing it. I’m not saying it has to be me."

"Fine, I’ll have hot chocolate waiting when you get done."

"And cookies?"

"And cookies. _Peanut butter_ cookies."

"Deal."

 


End file.
